Nysa's POV

Today, I saw him again.

I wasn’t even looking for him. I had just come to followup and get out of that suffocating ward as fast as I could. But fate, or whatever cruel thing plays with my timing, decided to hold me there for five extra minutes.

And in those five minutes…

He walked in.

With her.

She held his hand like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there.

And he… looked like he didn’t mind being hers.

He smiled at her the way I used to dream he'd smile at me — soft, effortless, real.

And I just stood there.

Invisible. Silent. Small.

I don’t know what hurt more — watching him hold someone else like that,

or realizing that if I had been in her place, he would’ve never held me the same way.

Because I’m not her.

I’m not loud enough. Not glowing. Not the type who walks into a room and owns it. I stumble when I talk. I overthink texts. I get nervous when eyes are on me. I keep too much to myself.

And she —

She looks like a story he would read again and again.

I look like a note left behind in someone’s forgotten textbook.

So today, I did something I didn’t expect.

I rejected myself.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror near the elevator, and I whispered,

“You’re not the one for him.”

And strangely… that truth didn’t shatter me.

It settled over me like silence after a storm.

Maybe I was never supposed to be his.

Maybe he was never supposed to even notice me.

But tonight, I finally understand something.

He’s not the villain.

She’s not the obstacle.

And I’m not the victim.

I’m just a girl who loved quietly.

And sometimes, quiet love is never heard — and never answered.

The call came just as I was arranging my files in the hostel study room.

Unknown number.

I hesitated, then picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” the voice said — confident, too familiar. “Naysa. It’s Aayub.”

I frowned instantly.

“How did you get my number?”

He didn’t even flinch. “I asked Kritika. She was hesitant, but I insisted. I just needed to talk to you.”

I said nothing.

He went on, voice casual, like we were old friends. “Look, I know you said you had a boyfriend that day… but honestly, I know you lied.”

Silence.

He continued, “It’s okay, really. I get it. You were trying to shut the conversation down, and that’s fine. But I also think it’s time you drop the act. You don’t have to push people away just because you're stuck on someone like Apurv.”

My grip on the phone tightened.

Deep breath, Naysa.

Then I said, with a calm sharper than a blade:

“I didn’t lie.”

He paused. Probably surprised I wasn’t flustered.

“I have a boyfriend,” I said slowly. “And whether you believe it or not, it’s none of your business.”

“Naysa, come on—”

“No. Listen carefully, Aayub,” I cut in, my voice ice-cold now. “If you ever take my number without permission again… if you ever call me to discuss my personal life like it’s some gossip you’re entitled to—”

I stood up from the chair, heart steady.

“I will forget that you’re Kritika’s friend. I will forget that I ever spoke to you politely. And I will not hold back next time.”

He was silent on the other end.

I added one last thing. “Don’t mistake my silence for softness. I choose my dignity before anything else.”

Then I ended the call.

No drama.

No yelling.

Just a girl tired of being cornered for emotions she never owed anyone to explain.

That night, I slept better than I had in weeks.

Because I didn’t just protect my lie —

I protected my trust